


we're alive, and it hurts

by phooweep



Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: Drink With Me, Drinking & Talking, Drunken Kissing, Drunkenness, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2020-01-14 21:27:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18484696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phooweep/pseuds/phooweep
Summary: “New girl!” he says. “Join me!” She can’t tell if he’s slurring or if that’s just how he talks - she thinks his name is Shane but every time she’s tried to say hi, or good morning, or how’s your day going, he brushes her off with gruff I don’t know yous and sleepy-eyed glares. And yet, an invitation. So she joins him.





	we're alive, and it hurts

She’s wandering back from town one evening, past Leah’s cabin (light flickering in the window just enough to indicate a fire going but not much else) when a pang of loneliness spikes through her almost out of nowhere. Or maybe not quite loneliness, but a certain sense of being fully and completely alone. It’d been weeks since she’d moved out of the city, and everyone had been so friendly, even sending along recipes and jamming baked goods in her mailbox, but she was still an outsider. The city kid living on her dead grandpa’s farm. Like everyone was holding their breath, waiting for her to get one callus too many and throw in the towel and move away, back to her old friends and her old job and her old life. It ached within her, because she didn’t want to tell them when they asked about what she did before - nothing. It meant nothing. She had office friends she got drinks with, sometimes, and then she went home and read a book, or did a crossword puzzle, and went to sleep and started all over again the next day.

  
She didn’t know how to explain to these people that dropping everything and taking a bus to a quiet farming town was not something she did because her old life had been just okay. Hitting a reset button was easy when there wasn’t much to reset, because your family lived out of state and didn’t much check up on you anyway, your friends weren’t friends, really, just good acquaintances, and your cubicle wouldn’t miss you. She’d just tossed her name placard in the trash along with the other little knick-knacks she had gotten in a feeble attempt to personalise her workspace. And then they wanted to know what it was like, living in the city.

  
“It’s like I was asleep,” she says softly, turning her head up to where the stars were absurdly bright against the deep black of the sky. “And now I’m awake. Why would I ever go back?”

  
Her hand absentmindedly goes to the left back pocket of her somehow already-faded overalls, where the last relic of her city life rested, having run out of battery the week before. It was such an ingrained habit to take her phone with her everywhere, even though there was no service out here and she’d canceled her plan anyway while she was quietly shutting down her existence in the city. The moon catches her eye, glimmering off the pond just past Leah’s house, and she smiles to herself as she sets off for the pier.

  
She’s so focused on her mission that it isn’t until she’s a few steps away that she sees him, one hand holding himself upright while he leaned back to empty the can in his other hand. He catches sight of her, and flops back to give her an upside-down grin.

  
“New girl!” he says. “Join me!” She can’t tell if he’s slurring or if that’s just how he talks - she thinks his name is Shane but every time she’s tried to say hi, or good morning, or how’s your day going, he brushes her off with gruff I don’t know yous and sleepy-eyed glares. It’s almost refreshing, compared to everyone else in town, if she’s being honest. Helps her with the culture shock.

  
He seems to realize he’s being rude, and lifts back up to a sitting position to grab for another couple of beers. He proffers one, and she takes it as she settles next to him.

  
“What are we drinking to?” she says.

  
He shifts so he’s fully facing her, one leg tucked in and the other dangling over the end of the pier, foot swinging gently above the calm water. “We,” he says, cocking his head to one side, “are drinking to whatever you would like, new girl.”

  
She locks her ankles and begins to swing her legs thoughtfully, her expression so intense he can’t help but crack a smile. Something occurs to her, and she leans toward him suddenly, left hand going for her back pocket. She brushes against his knee and, fuck, he must have had more than usual because that was an unexpected tingling sensation. Her smell of lavender soap and unabashed farm drifts over along with the swing of her ponytail, as she pulls out a shiny cell phone from her overalls.

  
Staring at it for a few moments, its black screen reflecting only the softly glowing lamps and her own face, creased with concentration, she lets out a short sigh and hucks it into the water.

  
Shane looks out at the splash and subsequent ripples. “I’ll drink to that,” he says.

  
They tink cans, and while he just takes a swig, her drink is gone in a matter of moments, her whole body leaning back as she empties it. Pulling it away from her face with a small gasp, she wipes her mouth before letting out a perfunctory belch.

  
“Fast drinker,” he laughs. “Woman after my own heart. Another?”

  
She accepts the second beer and pops the tab. “Life,” she says.

  
“What?” He’s reaching for another beer of his own, and stops short.

  
“Just, life. That’s what I’d like to drink to tonight. All of this.” She waves her empty hand around at the trees swishing in the light wind, the pitch black sky splashed with stars, the pond still gently rippling from where her phone sunk to the mud at the bottom.

  
He snorts, pulls the tab on his own new beer, and shifts so both legs are sticking out over the water again. The wood digs pleasantly into the backs of his legs and he leans back onto one arm, taking a long drink. “Life. Sure.”

  
She looks over at him. Really looks him over; the scruffy sweatshirt, the slight beer gut, the shine to his hair where he’s been pushing it away from his eyes all day. His stubble. The dark circles under his eyes and the grim set to his jaw, even as he catches her gaze and gives her a small smirk from behind his beer can. And - oof, there it is, she can feel the heat spreading over her cheeks and down her neck, plus the telltale fuzz around her head as she leans in towards him.

  
“What’re you --” he starts, her hand going for -- oh, the uneven strings in his hoodie. He sets his beer down to help her, pulling them level before re-adjusting his hood.

  
She leans back, mimicking his earlier posture, and drains her second beer in one go. He shakes his head in slight amazement - though, yep, he’s definitely on the drunk end of buzzed, and from the way her face has flushed, even in this low light, he’s pretty sure she’s on her way there as well.

  
“Shane, right?” she says, a smile spreading over her face despite her best efforts. “Not sure we’ve been properly introduced. Think you said, ‘Do I know you? Why are you talkin’ to me?’ last time I tried to say good morning.”

  
He feels a wash of shame and hopes he hadn't blushed too badly at it. It had been a bad morning, in his defense - they all were when he was shuffling his way over to JojaMart at what felt like the crack of dawn. She’d seemed so sunny, so alive-alert-awake, and frankly, he didn’t have time for pleasantries. Just liked to keep his head down, finish his shift, and get over to the saloon. But he had been rude. So he says, “Yeah. Shane. Though I s’pose you don’t need introducin’, bein’ you’re the talk of the town an’ all. Sorry for being...gruff. Workin’ at JojaMart doesn’t really incline anyone toward friendliness.” He shrugs in what he hopes is a non committal way, and takes another swig of beer.

  
“No worries,” she grins. “That explains a lot, actually. Of course you work for the one soulless corporation in this perfect little town.”

  
He frowns. She reaches for another, and he starts to hand it to her but pauses, their fingers just slightly touching, warm against the cool aluminum. “Of course?”

  
“Oh,” she says, flushing deeper. “Sorry. I just mean, you’re the person that reminds me the most of - of back in the city. So it sort of makes sense, to me.” Satisfied, he relinquishes the can, and she opens it with some relief.

  
Staring up at the sky, Shane lets that sink in. She had been the talk of the town these last few weeks, of course, but there was also that undercurrent of fear. Nobody could quite tell if she was the just-passing-through type, even if she seemed to have settled in quite comfortably, bringing around her first attempts at turnips for Pam to try and ogling the big backpack on that stupid pedestal in Pierre’s store every time she came around for more seeds. It was like her being friendly was both entirely welcome and something to be a little wary of; she was a city kid, after all. Weren’t they supposed to be aloof? Fast-paced, slick, all tailored clothes and shiny smiles, like Morris. She wasn’t that, even a little bit.

  
“You don’t really seem like the city type, though,” Shane says slowly. “Don’t know anyone from the city who wears overalls.” Nice. Good line there, Shane. Couldn’t even work in a compliment about how she fills out those overalls. Just a comment about how she didn’t belong where she came from. Great.

  
To his shock, she gives him an enormous grin. “Really? You think I fit in around here?”

  
“Well,” and now it’s his turn to flush, “yeah. I mean, it’s a small town, you know? Pretty sure you’d know if you weren’t fittin’ in by now.”

  
She nods thoughtfully, finger tracing the rim of her beer can. “Guess I would,” she says. Then, turning back towards him: “So why do you still work for JojaMart, then? ‘Cause you don’t really seem the type either. Nobody here does. It’s what I like so much about everyone.”

  
He shakes his head, the knowledge that he’ll have to drag himself out of bed in the morning and back to those washed-out fluorescent aisles hitting him like a slow-moving, inevitable truck. “You ever feel like... no matter what you do, you’re gonna fail? Like you’re stuck in some miserable abyss and you’re so deep you can’t even see the light of day?”

  
She laughs, scrunching her legs up to her stomach, shoulders shaking as she tries to quiet herself. “Sorry, sorry,” she says, still giggling. “That’s just so dramatic. Were you working on that all day, over there restocking shelves?”

  
He pouts at her. “No. Maybe.” And goddamn if he can’t help but crack a grin when she starts laughing again, though he protests, saying, “Aw, quit makin’ fun of me. Hurts for a guy to get laughed at.”

  
Her face gets serious real quick, though there’s still a crease of amusement around her eyes. Her hand finds his on the wood of the dock, warmth pressing down. “Do you really feel like that? It’s so beautiful and calm out here. I haven’t ever felt so alive as when I stepped off that bus.” She’s so sincere that he has a hard time formulating a response. How do you explain to someone that you’re just...sad? All the time?

  
“I mean,” he shrugs, finding solace in his beer for a moment, “guess I just thought I’d get out one day. Move to the city, maybe, or get my own farm. But I’ve just been treading water the last few years.” He shakes his head. “Easier to get a steady paycheck and spend nights at the saloon drinking it away.”

  
He turns his head back to her, very aware that her hand is still resting atop his, and his brain shorts out at the information that she’s leaning towards him. His mouth tries to sputter something out but she’s just scooting closer, resting her head on his shoulder. Somewhere in there she must have finished her third, because her can is crushed and sideways with the rest of her empties and her other arm is free to reach toward his knee, hand tapping out slow beats against the frayed holes in his jeans.

  
“Oh, Shane,” she sighs. “I think I understand more than you know.”

  
His beer is empty too, somehow, and he rests his head momentarily on hers before pulling away to grab another. He examines it, looks over at her, her head still angled towards him, eyes narrowed and lips pursed in thought, and sets it back down. He clears his throat, blush rising from his neck for some reason.

  
“My liver’s beggin’ me to stop--” he starts, and then all thought is driven from his head when she leans in again, face tilted in an unmistakable way and a determined set to her jaw.

Well, actually, his brain finds the coherency to think the word dreamy - about her eyes, probably, though who could say - before her lips are on his, hesitant and soft. His nose fills with her smell again but more, lavender and fresh hay, and he lets out a soft grunt of surprise but he’s just too obsessed with how soft her lips are to not kiss her back. It’s a bit sloppy once he opens his mouth to her, and he’s sure his stubble is uncomfortable against the wonderfully smooth jaw his thumb is stroking across, but she doesn’t seem to mind. Her hand rests lightly on his arm, sending tingles, well, everywhere.

  
She’s not quite sure this is a great idea, but it’s been forever and a day since she’s connected with someone like she has with Shane tonight, and fuck it she’s a little drunk, so here they were. Grinning into his mouth, she moves her hand to his surprisingly soft hair, pulling through it until she’s scraping through the short section on the back of his neck and bringing him closer, closer, closer. He lets out another shocked gurgle, then laughs against her in response, breaking away from her lips to kiss down her jaw and suck what would surely be a light bruise into the side of her neck. His hand has moved from her hair to her face to the small of her back, pulling her closer, so she makes a bold decision and attempts to swing one leg over him to straddle his lap.

  
It doesn’t quite go as planned. She gets one leg over, and then she realizes exactly how close to the edge of the pier they were both sitting, but he’s so focused on capturing her mouth again that he just leans with her and then they’re toppling into the water.

 

*

 

He wakes up in the morning to his rooster alarm crowing that he has just enough time to get up, pull on a mostly clean pair of jeans, splash water on his face, and stumble over to JojaMart. Events from the night before are a bit hazy - new girl, too much to drink, kissing? Oh shit.

  
Hand floating up to his face, he allows himself a grin. The moment had passed after they’d dragged themselves out of the pond, sure, but he’d wrangled a promise to let him buy her a drink at the saloon sometime, where there was no danger of falling off piers. And: if he hurried, he could probably stop to say hello to her before succumbing to the reality of fluorescent lights and endless shelf reorganization. But just a quick hello.

  
He squinted outside at the sun spreading over the horizon, and if it seemed a little more golden today, he wasn’t going to question it.

**Author's Note:**

> me: *has an idea for a single scene* *ends up writing all of this*
> 
> didn't think i was really the type to write stuff about my farmer but here we are. i love shane. that's kind of it.  
> oh: i did listen to "goodnight chicago" by rks over & over while writing this. might have had an effect on the vibe
> 
> edit: wowzers this has gotten the highest kudos:views ratio of anything i've posted? but comments yall i thirst for comments i beg of you


End file.
